Mason

Glass

I glimmer in the sun, my reflection

beams into the eyes that glaze 

upon me. When I'm broken, my

shards can cut.


Deadly.

 

Smithereens of dust blowing

in the wind can catch and leave

a nasty mark. Scars can be left.

My blades can damage and pierce

and wound and break.

 

Wounded.

 

Like knife through butter.

Like the words you stutter.

I flow my edges like water

in the streams and rivers.

 

Glass.

 

Comments1

  • JaydeVictoria

    What an amazing write...the metaphor is spot on.
    Faved!

    • Mason

      Thankyou :)



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